m 



lew 




Class 







Book.»Ali 
GopyrigM? 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT; 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/freshfieldslegenOOdays 



By the Same Author 



"Mayflowers to Mistletoe" 

Second Edition 
Revised and Enlarged 

Illustrated by Zulma de L. Steele 

Net, $1.30 




M&£ 



Presh fields 

and 

Legends Old and New 



By 

Sarah J. Dav 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
New YorK and London 
Gbe IRnickerbocfter press 

1909 



^"V 






Copyright, 1909 

BY 

SARAH J. DAY 



ftbe "Smfcfcerbocfeer Jpress, 1Rew lotfe 



Y of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

MAY 3 1909 

Copyngnt Entry _ 







" f~\F making many books there is no end," 
^^ Complained the Sage, whilst yet the scanty page 
Of scroll or sculptured stone was all he knew. 
Who then, you say, shall dare himself defend 
For making books in this book-ridden age? 

And this my answer — may you find it true : 

I did not make this little book, my friend, 

But as I went along the Way, that wound 

Across old roads or past the city's sound 

Of voices or led up to homelands fair 

Gladdened by birds and skies and stars, it grew — 

Blossomed from wind-blown thoughts that unaware 

Lodged where I journeyed. And for just the sake 

Of living things that have the right to live 

I gave them nurture. So it chanced, a few 

Who travelled that same Way, would pleasure take 

In here and there a bloom and ask of me 

To gather some. May this my pardon be 

That these I pluck to share with them and you. 



Contents 

FRESH FIELDS 

A Country Home . 

I. Building the House 
II. In the Garden 

III. In the Orchard 

IV. By the Brook 
V. Among the Trees 

VI. On the Hillside 
Bird Songs . 
Phoebe 

Wood Thrush 
Towhee 
Redstart . 
Goldfinch . 
California Meadow-lark 



PAGE 
3 

3 

4 

5 

6 

8 

io 

13 

•5 

18 

20 

22 
25 
27 



VI 



Contents 



Canon Wren 
Flicker 
Catbird 

Maryland Yellowthroat 
Red-eyed Vireo . 
Humming-bird . 
Field Notes . 
March 

April Weather . 
A May Song 
A Summer Shower 
The Tamed Butterfly 
The Interpreter . 
A Drama of Frost 

LEGENDS OLD AND NEW 
Legends of the Land .... 
The Last Sacrifice: A Legend of Niagara . 
The Taking of Vincenne 



3° 
32 
33 
35 
37 
39 
4i 
43 
46 

49 
50 
52 
53 

61 
61 

77 



Contents 








vii 


PAGE 


The Strange Story of Peter Rugg 








83 


Ten Sonnets 








91 


A Portrait .... 








93 


The Oracle 








94 


"Then, Face to Face" . 








95 


I. " My Father's Business " 








96 


II. "Was Subject unto Them" 




. 


97 


On the Statue of Leif Ericson 




o 


98 


Peer Gynt 








99 


In a Copy of Fenelon's Letters 








100 


Two Sonnets on Age . 








IOI 


Mars .... 








103 


Three Christmas Poems . 








. 105 


The Nativity — after Ghirlandajo 








107 


The Song of the Stars . 






1 10 


A Song for Christmas Eve 






115 


Voices of Men .... 






117 


At the Simplon Tunnel 








119 



viii Contents 






PAGE 


Io Victor ........ 


123 


In the Silent Time ...... 


125 


The City of Light ..... 


. 128 


San Francisco .... . . 


131 


At the Seashore ...... 


132 


The Way of the East ..... 


135 


Creation ....... 


139 


The Mother to Her Babe- Visitant . 


142 


To the Victoria Regia . 


144 


Buying Pansies ....... 


I46 


At the Cross-roads ..... 


•47 


Legends New . . 


149 


The Brothers ...... 


15' 


Lusus Naturae ....... 


•54 


The Labor Problem : A Fable . 


•55 


The Citadel . . 


•59 


The White Butterflies ..... 


162 


Peniel ........ 


164 



Contents 


ix 




PAGE 


The Judgment ..... 


167 


The Travail of His Soul 


I70 


The Reply ...... 


172 


Too Late ...... 


• »73 


Slumber Song ..... 


• 174 


In a Guest Book ..... 


• '75 


For a Calendar ...■■.. 


. 178 



S vesfo jfielb0 

CRESH fields I found, 

A morrow of my life: 
An upland bit of ground 
Won from an ancient wood 

With springtide blossoms rife: 
A brook and blithest sound 

Of bird song everywhere; 
And — this its chiefest good — 

An outlook far and fair. 



H Country 1bome 



BUILDING THE HOUSE 

OTRONG its foundations, 

Unseen and in rectitude laid; 
Ample and comelily made 
The space of its chambers 
Where friends shall resort 
And contentment abide; 
Lofty the arch of the roof 
To the skies unafraid; 
And the walls, stretching wide, 
Many-doored, many-windowed, 
Shall shut thee not in 
From the seeing the joys and the woes 
Of thy fellows, the swift going forth 
To thy place at their side. 
3 



4 ffresb jfielfcs 

ii 

IN THE GARDEN 

My garden plot shall hold 
Its own remote and cherished beds of bloom 
For those whose practised eyes 
Shall prize the shapely buds that there unfold, 
The tints that their deep chalices illume. 
My garden, on a ledge 
Of cool north rocks, 
Shall bear, for me alone, 
Anemones and dewy fern, 
Careless and shy, woodwise. 
And then, along its edge 
My garden plot shall be 
Bright with the common, fragrant sorts of things, 
Alluring vagrant wings 
Of moth and butterfly, 
Glad'ning the plodding passer-by. 
And here and there, the hedge 



H Country 1bome 5 

Shall open to a gay, bloom-crowded spot, 
Where children's feet may, all unbidden, 

press, 
And little eager hands, unchidden, pluck 
Joy from my garden plot. 



in 



IN THE ORCHARD 

Fruit of the trellis and fruit of the tree, 

When I shall attain thee, 

How great will the gain be 
To recompense me? 
Here are the saplings fresh planted; the vine 

New rooted and budding ; 

Much labor and care was, 
And who can divine 
What earnest shall come from the dreams and 

the getting, 
The delving and setting, 



6 jfresb fields 

O orchard and vineyard of mine ! 
Break swiftly in bloom, 
O trees of my care, 

Shed the subtle perfume 
Of thy unrevealed clusters, 
O vine, that aware 
Of my dower I may walk under arbor and bough ! 
Let me not wait for a far-away joy, 
Let me know and be glad, even now! 

IV 
BY THE BROOK 

Here is a place of retreat 

Where few feet will wander ; 

For few know the course of the brook 

Through the leaf-hidden nook at the foot of the 

slope, 
And few love so lowly a seat 
As this 'twixt the close-standing beeches; 
But the satin-gray sheen of their trunks 



H Country Ifoome 7 

And the green of their canopied leaves 

Are to me as the throne of a queen. 

Alone, then, except for a thrush 

(I saw the brown flecks of his throat 

As he stept through that thicket of fern) 

Or a chickadee's note, 

Cricket-clear in the stillness, 

I '11 rest me. For weary I come 

To thy side, little brook. 

Whisper to me and relate 

All thy shy bits of news: how the violets look 

In the neighboring dell 

Thou and I know so well ; 

How the trilliums nod at the foot of the rock, 

And above, in the crevice, the columbine bell 

Will soon be a-ringing. There's not the least thing 

Thou canst tell, little wanderer, I would not hear. 

Thou murmurest peace in my half-dreaming ear, 

Peace of the wood thou hast threaded alone, 

With sky-glimpse of blessing above thee; 

Yet, now and then, rise thro' thy low monotone 



8 tfvcsb fffel&s 

Almost articulate questions and cries, 

And I rouse as if called by my name. 

Hast learned in thy journeyings, wise little brook, 

Some stray human phrases to use with thine 

own ? 
From tender young strollers their murmured 

replies, 
Their calls to each other when either forsook 
Thy path thro' the covert ? Their lover am I , 
And thine, and the lover of bird, tree, and flower. 
Prattle to me of them all, little brook, 
As I rest in this nook for an hour. 

v 

AMONG THE TREES 

If one had planned a century ago 
This place for this our home that grows apace 
Upon its slopes, he could not better know 
To set the trees than here to-day they stand, 
Sown by the happy cast of nature's hand. 



H Country 1bome 9 

See how that range of oaks in sweeping curve 
Retreats before our door, and, marshalling 
Around their barren trunks, the dogwoods reach 
Low bough to level bough and fleck the spring 
With snows belated! What could better serve 
For roadway sentry than this double beech 
And there its fellow ? O my trees, my trees ! 
I pass from each to each with loving touch 
Of greeting, for you all shall be my friends 
Whom I shall know as such — you glorious herds 
Of sentinels — and call you each by name: 
The tufted chestnuts, rough-barked hickories, 
And sassafras whose berries lure the birds; 
The shafted tulips sprung with arrow aim 
From earth to sky, and liquidambars set 
With shining leaves star-fashioned; here a birch 
Or ash or maple, rarer yet an elm; 
While over all our acres I must search 
To find the single cedar that retrieves 
The absence of his order from my realm. 
If I be queen — and so I seem, indeed — 



io jfresb jfielfcs 

In this late-won domain, be glad, O trees, 
In my most gracious favor. Ye shall need 
No intercessor here. Myself will plead 
Your cause if ever greedy axe shall threat 
Or careless hand deface. 

Advance, O beech 
And oak, your ample shield and lofty lance, 
That ever from before your nobleness 
May fall away the falseness and the fret 
That sap our lives, leaving my spirit free 
To draw like you, from earth, the fathomless, 
Due strength to reach the sky's immensity. 

VI 
ON THE HILLSIDE 

The shadows beckon and I climb the slope 
Above the future home whose vision fills 
The summer with expectancy and hope, 
And, looking out across the valley ways 
Of town and field and silver stream, a blaze 
Of glory meets me from th' opposing hills. 



H Country UDome n 

For lo! God's great rose-window in the west 
Of Earth, His temple, is aglow. 

I gaze 
As one who puts the sandals from his feet, 
And then as such an one, with reverence meet, 
Enter the Presence, speaking Soul to Soul: 

O Thou who must sustain 
Our toil, our plans control, 
Else is our labor vain, 
Send now from out the radiance of Thy whole 
Wide heaven's illumined dome. 
Thy blessing on this home that lies 
Unfinished 'neath its Master Builder's eyes. 

Give it the fitting grace, 

Thou Friend and Guest supreme, 
To be Thy dwelling place, 
That every humblest act therein may seem 
No more a trivial thing, 
Made by Thy witnessing to be 
An act of love and loyalty to Thee. 



12 fvcsh fields 

The dark and faithless thought, 

The word of wrath or scorn, 
The glance with coldness fraught, 

Let such, O Lord, not in this place be born. 

But words of cheer and praise 

And kindly helpful ways attest 

Home-happy hearts are here and minds at rest. 

Rest! — not the slothful calm 

Of sated ear and eye 
And listless-lying palm 
That puts, henceforth, the needs of others by. 
But such a peace as leads 
The tranquil heart to deeds divine. 
Peace of the sunset, where new dawnings shine. 



Birfc £on$0 



13 



ftboebe 

/^LOSE to the shingles the gray nest clung 

Beside the window. You scarce could see 
Small Mother Phoebe its mosses among, 
Sitting securely, 
Drowsing demurely, 
Safe as could be — 
For the window was darkened and cobwebs hung 
Across its corners, and, perched near by, 
Her fond mate uttered his watchful cry: 
"Phoebe! Phoebe! 
Fear not, Phoebe dear, 
All's well, Phoebe!" 

Alas! one day, when a quick hand threw 

The shutter wide, and a gay voice trilled 
"Joy to be home again!" no one knew 
Of a small home shattered, 
Its frail walls scattered, 
Its dreams unfilled. 
15 



16 JSirb %ongs 

No one saw that a dusk bird flew 

Helpless and frightened to find her mate, 
Nor heard him soothe her in sad debate: 
"Phoebe! Phoebe! 
Cheer up, Phoebe dear, 
I 'm here, Phoebe!" 



There are dim brook-corners where nests may 
hide, 
Known to the Phoebes, and, late that May, 
A busy pair by the waterside 
Were silently molding 
A tiny holding 

Of mud and clay. 
Stout were its sides and there jutted wide 
A rock for shelter. And now once more 
A brave heart uttered its cheerful lore: 
"Phoebe! Phoebe! 
We 're safe, Phoebe dear, 
All's well, Phoebe!" 






pbcebe 17 

Strange chance! that one morning she should go 
(Whose hand, unwitting, that wreck had 
strewed) 
By the brook and the rock, and, peeping below, 
See our Phoebe feeding 
Her eagerly pleading, 

Wide-mouthed brood. 
A gay, pleased laugh like a sudden blow 

Smote the heart of the bird. Then her nest- 
lings stirred, 
The old fear faded, and near she heard: 
"Phoebe! Phoebe! 
I 'm here, Phoebe dear, 
All's well, Phoebe!" 



TKHoofc Ubrusb 

\I7ITHIN the wood's green cloistery 

Of arch and aisle and fretted spire, 
Each day a little brown-frocked friar 
His station takes, between the nones 
And vesper hour, and ringingly 

His words of service meet intones: 
"Jubilee; 
Jubilate; 
Laus Deo; 
Jubilee." 

He knows his small breviary 
By heart, this zealous chorister, 
And ends each sentence with a whirr 
And buzz as when the people make 
Response, each vying hurriedly 

Neighbor and priest to overtake: 
"Jubilee — brethren we." 



Moot) Uforusb 19 

This murmured, odd antiphony 
Is scarcely heard, except one press 
Within the chantry's quietness, 
Close to the priest. With humble mien, 
Stand thou afar, thou devotee, 

And hear unmarred those notes serene: 
"Jubilee; 

Laudate Deo; 
Jubilee." 

Thus saintly-sweet, the psalmody 
Of phrase and pause and solemn phrase 
Flows on. And as we go our ways 
With lifted hearts in glad attune 
The full flute-notes float goldenly 
Across the waning afternoon : 
"Jubilee; 
Jubilate; 
Laus Deo; 
Jubilee." 



V 



Cbewinfc 

(towhee) 

A GALLANT fellow, smartly dressed 
In pointed stock and snowy vest, 

The black coat faced with gay lapels 
Of ruddy chestnut, tranquilly 
He stands and cons his minstrelsy: 
Two tender notes — or one alone — 

Close followed by a trill that wells 

Like laughter, or a peal of bells. 

And oft it seems that "Sweet bird, si — ing!" 

Might be the song's interpreting, 
Which he, obedient to his own 

Command, repeats unwearying: 

The two clear notes of tender tone, 

"Sweet bird" — and laughing gayly "Si — ing!' 



Cbewinft 21 

Although he scarce appears to see 

You watching him, a quick "Towhee " 

Warns Madam Chewink, drawing near — 
A gentle lady, all in tan — 
That here there lurks a treacherous man. 

And "Take care!" plainly now those clear 
Notes say, as if to emphasize 

The warning to her listening ear; 

Or is it for the stranger, half, 

The "take care" and the trilling laugh? 
Doubtful, I pause. "Go we?" she sighs, 
"No, he," her valiant lord replies. 



IRefcstart 

pOAL-BLACK and flame-red! 
Flitting, flickering overhead 
Like a wind-blown flake of fire — 
Quenched where, here and there, the dew 
Drenched thee, lightly lilting through 
Feathery bough and brake and brier — 
Tell me all thy heart's desire ; 
All that thou art fain to say 
In that hurried, restless way 
When thy ditties, swift and sweet, 
"Wish — a wish — a wish" repeat? 
" Wish-a-wish " — then suddenly 
Pause at what the wish may be. 

Coal-black and flame-red ! 
Once, by happy fortune sped, 



IRebstart 23 

Chanced I where thy silent mate 
Wove and shaped her dainty nest, 
Rounding it against her breast, 

Crouching, wheeling — then, elate, 

Darted off, returning straight 
Bringing silvery shreds of bark, 
Bits of moss — no time to mark 
Me, who lingering thought to hear 
Thy quick "Wish-a-wish" anear, 
Thought her labor thou would'st share, 
Fashioning thy wish most fair. 

Coal-black and flame-red ! 
He is Jack-o-Lantern-led 
Who would follow where thou goest: 
Here a gleam and there a glance, 
Ever flitting in advance, 
While a man has pace the slowest 
Of the beasts, as well thou knowest ! 
Drawing near thy mate at rest 
Now upon her finished nest, 



24 Biro Songs 

Tell me, furtive Will-owisp, 

Is the wish thou would'st not lisp 

(Out of utter courtesy) 

"Wish — he wouldn't follow me"? 



(Bolfcfincb 

D ENDING the goldenrod's soft plume, 

Atilt upon the sunflower stalk, 
The finches, bright as either' s bloom, 
Except for ebon cap and wing, 
Sway and swing; 
And balancing 
From weed to weed along the walk, 
They rifle seed and blithely feed, 
The while they yet more blithely sing — 
A lisping, softly warbled lay 
Unstudied, innocently gay. 

But when he takes his waving flight, 

Far up where flashing gold and jet 
Are dusk against the noonday light, 

His song has the cadence of striving — unrest; 

25 



26 Mvb Songs 

Marking the crest 

Of each billow imprest 
On the air by the rhythmical wingbeat, fret 
And weariness its notes express. 
Such blue immensities to breast ! 
With each lilt of his pinions, he seems to say 
" It 's a weariful way, a weariful way ! " 

Thou tiny thing! be not too bold 

For flights afar. This thistletop 
Whose purple foils thy feathered gold 

So richly, is a fitter place 

Than realms of space, 
For thy soft grace. 
Jewel our fields, dear bird, and crop 
Thy dainty fill; and let thy trill 
Of safe earth-happiness replace, 

With lisping warbles blithe and gay, 

Those sky-plaints of "a weary way." 



Ube ZlDeaDow Xatrft 

A SUDDEN whirr beside our dusty wheels, 

A brief, sweet gush of song: 
As though 't were sprayed with dew, a freshness 
steals 
The sun-parched way along. 

Thou wayside hermit, from thy shy abode 

Thy strain's not heard afar — 
But it transforms the sordid daily road; 

Like thee, some poets are. 



27 



Ube Canon Wren 

Yk 7E climbed the rocky pathway 
Between the canon walls. 
Out of the sky 
A wondrous rain 
Of golden song 
Suddenly came — 
Note linked to note with minor falls 
To form one pure down-dropping chain. 

The singer? Long we sought him, 
And lo! a tiny wren 

Perched on the cliff, 

From ruffled throat 

And curving bill 

Let fall again 
His rosaried wealth of song to fill 

Th' unpeopled aisles of that far glen. 

28 



Ubc Canon TKHren 29 

Those marvellous notes have fallen 
Spring after Spring unheard. 
Yet must he sing 
(God gave him voice) 
Though none may hear; 
Not his the choice 
Whether a passing throng rejoice 
Or just Heaven's brooding ear. 



flickev 

A TAP-TAP-TAPPING overhead, 
And far up in the hollow tree 

A ragged hole, whence, presently, 
A bill is thrust abroad, to shed 

Its fill of sawdust forth; and then, 
A moment's pause, whilst one could note 
The crescent drawn about the throat, 

The softly mottled brow and chin, 
Till, swift withdrawn, I heard again 

The tap-tap-tapping from within. 

"O master carpenter," I cried, 
"Thy choice of trades was surely ill — 
Thy only tool that curving bill, 

And thou so softly plumed beside 
For labor rude of saw and drill ! 

Why dost not weave thy nest, thou too, 

As other birds are wont to do?" 



3fHcfter 3 1 

Again the head thrust forth, the spray 
Of chips again, the watchful pause 
With fixed, bright eyes. "I know the laws 

Appointed me," they seemed to say: 

" For every creature there is one 

Sole task, none other, to be done. 

To rear my brood within a tree, 
Thus toilfully prepared, is mine. 

Whilst I fulfill my destiny, 

Dost thou, too, know and follow thine?" 



Cat>Bfr& 

'"THE cat bird, in his sleek, smooth suit of gray, 
Slips through the budding bushes, whence 
a gay 
Roulade of merry whistlings straight is heard, 
So dulcet, one might think the mocking-bird, 
His famous kinsman, sang there hid from view, 
When, at achievement's height, a sudden mew 
Betrays the stock from which the singer sprang — 
The rustic lapsing to his native twang. 

But much we love his homely, rural ways; 
The trustful friendliness with which he strays 
Through the low saplings and the lilac hedge, 
Or hops, tail-tilted, at the gravel's edge; 
His Quaker grays — or is the tint Maltese? — 
Delight us by their dapper harmonies; 
And that same "mew," from art so gross a 
schism, 

That 's honor's self, disdaining plagiarism ! 

32 



/n>ar£lanfc> l^ellowtforoat 

\17INSOMELY wheedling the voice from the 
hedge — 
No, the sumacs — the shrubbery — whence does 
it come? 
You peep through the tangle, you creep to the 
edge 
Of the thicket, but all its green mazes are 
dumb. 
When, baffled, retreating, 
Close by sounds the greeting — 
"Witchity, witchity, witchity!" Witch 
Of a bird, why so shy of a meeting? 

A startled "chip! chip!" You have trampled 
too near, 

Perchance, to the grasses that shelter his nest; 
From twig to twig furtively flitting, appear 

The jet of his forehead, the gold of his breast, 

3 33 



34 Biro Songs 

Close-eyeing your visit 
With poses exquisite — 
"Witchity, witchity, witchity!" Pray 
Of all tiny witches, which is it — 

Wood-elf, or gnome, or tree-fay, of a mien 

So impishly saucy yet timid withal ? 
You know as you turn that he peers through 
the screen 
Of green leaves to watch you, and soon will 
his call, 
So coyly persuasive, 
Elusive, evasive, 
Follow you: "Witchity, witchity, witch!" 

What a fidgety midget the witch is! 



IRefc^esefc UHreo 

\I7HEN, these midsummer Sabbaths, I have 
strayed 
Toward my loved woodways, spite of warning 

bell 
And passing neighbor nods, I find it well 
That, where the trees their closest shadows 

braid, 
A little preacher lurks in ambuscade 
My vagrant notice potent to compel. 

Staccato-clear his brave admonishment: 

" You see it — do you hear it? Will you heed? 
You hear it — truly? — O, believe it," plead 
The varying phrases, and I give assent, 
Eager to make my own the blithe content 
Of bird and blossom, learn their forest creed. 

35 



36 JSfrt) Songs 

But though I wait, with open, ready mind, 
To know his doctrines, do as he shall bid, 
The preacher, flitting back and forth amid 
His myriad pulpits, clad in dusky-lined 
Leaf-tinted vestments, still leaves undefined 
The teachings in those crisp staccatoes hid. 

And if "You see it — hear it — heed!" is all 
Of Nature's doctrine — if we are but told 
To stand attentive to her manifold 
Fair sights and sounds, that these may ever fall 
On ears attuned to hear a prophet-call, 
On eyes alert a vision to behold — 

Then is this flitting wood-evangelist 

A fit exponent of her mysteries. 

He lures us on — the little Socrates — 
With questions that unanswered still persist, 

To haunt her Academe amid the trees; 
And for my soul's sake, I will not resist! 



1foumming*:!Btift 

A SPARK of life, a flash of fire, 

A vibrant bit of ecstasy, 
Now quivering poised — of gauze and wire 

Its wings — now darting instantly 
From store to store of nectar dew 
And pollen dust and honey brew, 

To quaff the sun-wrought potency 

That feeds the flashing energy 
Of whirring wing and darting aim 

And pulsing zest of life, so keen 
It gleams and burns in ruby flame 

At throat and breast, and weaves the sheen, 

The purple scintillant and green 
Of burnished back 'T was there — 't is gone! 

Oh, what a clod, a thing unstirred, 
When most alert, most wrought upon, 

Of sluggard thought and wingless word, 

Is man beside the humming-bird! 

37 



ffielfc motes 



39 



/IDarcb 

\17HAT subtle change is here? 

All things unchanged appear, 
Yet wear no more their winter look austere. 

Though stark the bough and bare, 

Its tossing in the air 

Is of expectancy and not despair. 

And, March, thy biting breath 

Is chill as that of Death, 

Yet life, life, life, it publisheth. 

Soon melt thy sudden snows, 

Earth's breast beneath them glows 

With prescient dreams of apple-bloom and rose- 

Boisterous though thou art, 

'T is but the herald's part, 

The blare and bustle ere the gentles start. 

41 



42 ffielfc IRotes 

Thou, faring in advance, 

Must break thine icy lance 

As signal for the pageant and the dance. 

Awaiting this thy sign, 

Thy followers divine 

Full oft amiss these motley moods of thine. 

I mind me yestermorn, 

'Neath leaden skies forlorn, 

A bold song sparrow rang his triple horn; 

To-day, a robin gave 
One brief, ecstatic stave, 

Then paused — as checked by some unseen 
conclave, 

Who knew, if come too soon, 

Thou lead'st the trustful loon 

A merry rigadoon, 

Fire in thine eyes and frost upon thy shoon ! 



Hprfl Weatber 

CAIR Doris thought that Aprille smiled, 

And donned her kirtle new, 
For on the road to Amblewild 
Pass gallants not a few. 

A kirtle new, a bonnet trig, 

And only eggs to buy, — 
Was ever such a market rig? 

Oh, pretty Doris, fie ! 

Young Aprille beamed in broad delight, 

His thoughts on mischief bent, 
As Doris — such a dainty sight ! — 

Adown the highway went. 

How trim the hose ! how crisp the gown ! 

If Stephen should — but stay, 
Young Aprille wears a sudden frown 

Across his visage gay. 

43 



44 ffielb motes 

He falls aweeping, tricksy sprite, 
His tears in torrents flow; 

He clutches in his naughty spite 
At frock and furbelow. 



Alack, how limp the frills, poor lass, 
How muddy hose and shoe! 

If any one should chance to pass 
What could, what would she do ? 

And so, as Stephen leaps the stile 

And at her side appears, 
Sly Aprille breaks into a smile 

And Doris falls to tears. 



But men are not so overwise, 
And Stephen finds her fair 

With teardrops in her shining eyes 
And raindrops in her hair. 



Hpril Meatber 45 

Sweet tears ! they license words more warm 

Than just a prim "Good-day," 
And surely she will need his arm 

Along the muddy way? 



So, Aprille, 't was a silly trick; 

A youth can soothe a maid, 
A frock will wash, and one can pick 

One 's road with proper aid ! 



H flbav Song 

\17HO passed along the furrow 
At dewy dawn of day — 
And I behind the plough? 
I trow 
'T was my sweet lass o' May. 
A warm breath went before her, 
And every greening blade 
Pricked through the clod, 
Where'er she trod, 
To greet the blithesome maid. 
But ah, she came to me, 
To me alone, sweet lass o' May 
At dewy dawn of day. 



H jflDap Song 47 

Who peeped in at the nooning 
Where lazily I lay 

Beneath the apple bough ? 
I vow 
T was that same lass o' May ! 
Her glance was like a sunbeam 
And all the budding tree 
Blushed pink and white, 
In swift delight 
The radiant maid to see. 
But ah, she smiled at me, 
For me alone, at glowing noon, 
My radiant lass o' May. 



Alas, when in the gloaming 
With Doris I did stray, 
She stole, I know not how, 
With brow 
Of mischief on our way; 

She lured my glances toward her, 



4 8 tfielo IRotes 

She breathed in Doris' ear: 
"Believe him not, 
For well we wot 
I only am his dear. 
For ah, he 's thought of me, 
Of me alone, his lass o' May 
From dawn to close of day ! 

"These poet ploughmen, Doris dear 
Are fickle found alway!" 



H Summer ©bower 

A HUSH and a scurry of wind, — then the rush 

Of the rain in battalions fleet; 
And athwart the swirl of its hurrying files, 

And the tread of its myriad feet, 
Springs the flash and the jar of an answering war 
Where the cloud-spirits challenge and meet. 

Closer the press of the turbulent ranks, 

Fiercer the shock of the fray; 
Then the whole has swept by, and anon, a clear 
sky, 

And a drenched, fragrant earth, and the play 
Of quick, sparkling laughter from leaf to gay leaf 

Each twinkling its teardrops away. 



49 



©n Seeing a Butterfly Uamet) b£ 
Ibis distress 

"\17ITH pleased surprise the Worm I see 

Alight upon Adela's hand 
And to her gaze, confidingly, 
Its black and azure wings expand. 

It seems but chance that brings it there, 
For, rising soon, it circles round 

Adela's tendrilled wreaths of hair 
And flutters, flower-like, to the ground. 

Then — moistening at her rosy lip 

A bit of comfit sweet, she stoops 
Until her sugared fingertip 

Anear the waving pinions droops. 

50 



Butterfly XTame& bp bis distress 5 1 

And lo, the slender tongue uncoils; 

He clings and drinks with eagerness; 
A victim to Adela's toils 

She holds him there in soft duress. 



Poor Worm, she lets thee not to fly 
Nor mars thy plumage by a breath, 

Yet thou must hover, thou as I 
Henceforth anear her, were it death. 

And if thou slightest liberty 

To sip her fingertip alone, 
Pray what is freedom, life to me 

If her sweet self I may not own! 



TTbe interpreter 

HTHE oriole told it, in golden notes; 

The orchids lisped it, from mystical throats ; 
The sea and the sky and the new-ploughed land 
Proclaimed it; but no one could understand. 

Then the sky, and the sea, and the upturned clod 
Cried: "Who shall carry our message from God?" 
And the Poet was born, with a heart astir, 
Keen eye, true ear — the Interpreter. 



52 



H Drama of ffrost 

CHIEF OF THE FROST SPRITES 

DROTHER Sprites of frost and ice 

Rustling through the breathless night, 
Be ye swift to clothe the trees 
In their glittering armories. 
Snows unmelted, rains whose flight 
Felt the deadly, biting chill, 
Mists congealing, pale and still, 
Forge and fashion to your mind. 
Rarely, rarely thus we find 
All things working out our will. 

A SPRITE 

Bristling dart and bayonet, 
Flitting fleetly far and near, 
Through the treetops have I set, 
Linked the boughs with chain and fret, 
Every twig a silver spear. 

53 



54 ffielD IRotes 

ANOTHER SPRITE 

I, with master stratagem, 
Smoothly fusing sleet and hail, 
Rugged trunk and naked stem 
Sheathe in shining coat of mail; 
Fitted close at joint and greave, 
Cunningly I weld and weave. 

A ROADSIDE WEED 

What marvel this, my comrades, 

Along our bareness steals, 

This vail of filmy fairness 

Whose gem-encrusted rareness 

The first, faint dawn reveals? 

So gaunt, so wan but yesternight, 

O glittering comrades, greet the light! 

CHIEF OF THE FROST SPRITES 

Hurry! hurry! we must fly, 

Lest our wings, sun- touched, should fail. 



H 2)rama ot jfrost 55 

Fettering Cold, do thou prevail! 
On thy keeping we rely. 
Let no tear of softness fall, 
Hold this white world in thy thrall! 

A TALL OAK 

Across yon snowy height the sun 
Looks forth engirt with rose and gold 
And doth a miracle behold; 
His yesterworld is gone, and one 
Whose creatures all transfigured stand 
In glistening garb of fairy-land 
He sees with rapture unrepresst. 
The forest white against the sky 
Its crystal tapers holding high, 
He touches with his flashing torch 
From tip to waiting tip, and makes 
The light to run across its crest 
In waves of bright, translucent foam, 
Which just beyond my turret breaks. 



56 3fresb jfielfcs 

For while this glory bathes the rest 
I seem to stand unlit, alone. 

A SAPLING 

But even now, dear mother, 
Your boughs with diamonds blaze; 
And on your brow a ruby 
Its trembling flame displays; 
The forest's fairest lustre 
Is yours, from where I gaze. 
From you alone, dear mother, 
The leaves that round you cling 
In russet wreath and cluster 
Have hid its shimmering. 

WIND SPIRITS 

Let us leave the world no longer 
Bound in this Enchanter's shackles. 
Shake them! break them! gently, gently! 
How the net- work creaks and crackles! 
Yet again, a little stronger, 



H H>rama of ffvost 57 

Shatter spears and splinter lances! 
Now the clear ice-morsels scatter 
Far below us, far below, 
Sprinkled on the tinkling snow; 
See them spin in merry dances 
Sporting with our purpose fell! 
Might of wind nor sun's keen glances 
Melt nor mar this icy spell. 

SPIRIT OF THE COLD 

This world is mine through these three days of 

charm. 
Ye have no power to hinder nor to harm. 
This glistening crust upon the earth shall lie; 
This sparkling forest rise against the sky; 
These lowly wayside weeds undimmed shall 

wear 
Their silver-work of filigree most rare; 
And every least ice-morsel I shall hold 
In its translucent loveliness, a thing 
To marvel at, a witness of the King — 



58 jfresb ficlbs 

For who shall dare to stand against His cold? 
O winds, your striving wings submissive fold 
Within the distant caverns of the West! 
O setting suns of these three crystal days, 
Flush with your tenderest tints of rose the crest 
Of my snow forests and then go your ways, 
Leaving the land to its enchanted rest! 



II 

Xegenfcs ©K> anb IRew 

\A/E cross old roads, along the way of life, 

And hear in passing snatches of old tales 
Which please us to repeat, while still with them 
The voices of to-day, persisting, blend 
And make a symphony — no dissonance: 
Voices of men and nature, joy and grief. 
The new is old, the old forever new. 



59 



Xegenos of tbe Xano 

A LEGEND OF NIAGARA 

N old-time legend I would here repeat 
Because to-day our nation, heritor 
Of those wild tribes of whom such tales are told, 
Would traffic with that miracle of God 
That awed the savage into worshipping; 
Would make it a light thing to sacrifice 
The glory of a continent to Greed, 
Our modern Manitou. The tale is called — 
Wrongly, if we persist to prove it so — 

THE LAST SACRIFICE 

"Lelawala, art thou ready? 

Lo, the White Canoe we see 
Tied against the foaming eddy, 

Eager for its leap with thee. 

61 



62 Xegenfcs ot tbe Xanfc 

Come, thou fairest of our daughters, 
Hear the Spirit of the Waters, 

'Midst their falling 
Calling for thee, Lelawala!" 

Thus before her tent-flap, chanting 
Mournfully the song of summons, 
Stood and watched the Indian maidens, 
Watched, and called in sighing chorus 
Her they loved, bright Lelawala, 
Daughter of their chief, appointed 
For the tribe this day to perish. 

Spring had come to those far borders. 
Round their mighty limbs the forests 
Wore a tender veil of verdure, 
And the little wind-flowers clustered 
At their rugged roots were nodding 
Each to each a gentle greeting; 
While the birds in blithest chorus 
Carolled lustily, as striving 
'Gainst the roaring of the rapids 



H Xegeno of IFUaaara 63 

In the mad, rock-tortured river. 
On its banks, now green with tender 
Grass and leaf, the tribe were gathered ; 
Aged folk and little children ; 
Women silently lamenting; 
Stalwart braves who stood and waited, 
Some with brows of gloomy patience, 
Some, with glances unsubmissive, 
Gazing far adown the river, 
Where they saw the foaming waters, 
Here so swiftly plunging onward, 
Pause in one long swelling level 
Ere they fell in thunderous union 
Into that reverberating 
Awful gulf of death and terror; 
Saw the mists, with waving fingers, 
Rise and beckon, mutely asking 
For their long-awaited tribute. 

Here, a pace apart, his blanket 
Drawn across his face, in silence 



64 Xeaenfcs ot tbe OLanD 

Eagle Eye their chief is standing. 
None has ventured to accost him, 
None has dared to offer solace, 
Since he gave, amid the council 
Met to choose its yearly victim, 
With the rest his voice consenting, 
Lelawala, being fairest, 
Most beloved of all their maidens, 
Needs must die and from her people 
Lift the fear of plague and famine. 

None had ventured to accost him — 
Yet even now from out the forest 
Strides a youth, a stripling pale-face, 
Breathing hard from speed in running; 
Looks about and sees the silent 
Chief and straightway him approaching 
Speaks in hurried words: "A greeting 
Bring I from La Salle, the white men's 
Chief to thee, O chief, his brother, 
And his message, too, I carry, 



H Xegenfc of IFUagara 65 

Sent in haste, since it was rumored 
That your tribe, in spite of protest 
From La Salle, was met to offer 
Yet again its yearly victim 
To the Spirit of the Waters. 
Know then, Eagle Eye, the white men 
Bid you cease this cruel custom. 
Know the rite is hateful to us. 
Give command to spare the maiden. 
Learn ye that to slay the guiltless 
For the tribe's sake is not lawful, 
Nor doth Manitou require it. 
Thus La Salle has spoken." 

Coldly, 
Yet with fire of smothered anger, 
Eagle Eye, his head uncovered, 
Crest erect and haughty, answered: 
"Needless was such haste to carry 
Such a message. Hear my answer! 
Well La Salle our ancient custom 
Knows and how our fathers' fathers 



66 Xegenos of tbe Xano 

From their wiser fathers learned it: 

That each spring, our fairest maiden 

Must, to Him who rules the waters, 

Freely at our hands be offered, 

That He may not send disaster 

For a twelvemonth to our people. 

Dare a white man call it cruel 

Or unlawful? Do you ask him 

Then, from me, what mean the teachings 

Of the black-robed priests he sends us 

When they tell us of a guiltless 

Holy One, for sins of many 

Slain, that thus the Mighty Father 

Should not come and slay His children? 

We, like you, our best and dearest 

Give, that we may please the Mighty 

Manitou and save our people. 

Thus I send La Salle my answer." 

Then arose a murmuring: "Wisely 
Eagle Eye hath spoken for us. 



H Xegenfc ot IFUaGara 67 

We must give our best and fairest, 
Lo, and even now she cometh — 
Lelawala ! Lelawala ! " 

Straight and slender as the lilies 
Glowing in their dusky beauty 
By the woodside, stood the maiden, 
In her richest robes apparelled, 
On her lithe brown limbs the shining 
Bands and ornaments befitting 
One who owns a chief her father. 
Fearlessly she walks with stately 
Step before her band of maidens. 
Only once she falters, passing 
Eagle Eye, and stretches loving 
Hands out toward him, but he mutely 
Turns away and waves her onward. 

Thus they move amid the silent 
Throngs of people unaccosted; 
Thus they reach the river's margin, 



68 Xegenfcs ot the Xanb 

Where the White Canoe with restless 
Leaps and tossings waits its burden. 
For its sides the silver surface 
Of the birch-tree had been fashioned; 
Round its slender rim the snowy 
Blossomed branches from the woodland 
Wreathed, that they might form a lovely 
Bower, all purity and fragrance. 
But the water's foaming madness 
Mocks the blooms and dashes on them 
Drops of clammy spray, and rifles 
Here and there a branch, to hurl it 
Swiftly down the swirling current. 

Now again is heard the mournful 
Chanting of the maidens, shrilly 
Sweet against the river's tumult: 

"Manitou, the Mighty Spirit! 
'T is his voice that loudly calls ! 

Lelawala, dost thou hear it, 
Where he dwells amid the Falls ? — 



H %cgenb ot TCUagara 69 

' Haste ye now my price to pay me, 
Lest I rise in wrath to slay ye. ' 
Art thou ready, Lelawala?" 

Clearly came her voice in answer: 
" I am ready, O my people! 
Weak were I if I should falter, 
Since the choice that greatly honors 
Her on whom it falls, has fallen 
Even on me. I go with gladness; 
But I would not be forgotten. 
In the happy hours and peaceful 
That she died to purchase for you, 
Speak, sometimes, of Lelawala. 
When the brave shall wed the maiden 
Whom he loves, let him remember 
Lelawala, who unwedded 
Perished; when your little children, 
Mothers, round your knees ye gather, 
Speak to them of Lelawala, 
Who to keep them safe and happy 



7° Xeaenos of tbe Xano 

Missed herself the mother rapture; 
You, ye aged men and women, 
When your peaceful days ye number 
To their fullest tale, remember 
Her who so short way had journeyed 
Into life and all her golden 
Years resigned to save her people." 

So she turns away; the women 
Loudly weep, the little children 
Stretch out tiny arms to hold her 
Whom they love, and all the warriors 
Watch in silent grief. She loosens 
From its ring the thong that strongly 
Holds the restive boat and, springing 
Lightly from the bank, is standing 
In it, midst the flowers, and even 
Now, O Heaven! it leaps beneath her, 
Leaps and bears the swaying figure 
Guiding it with skilful paddle, 
Swiftly forth upon the current. 



H Xegenfc ot Iftiagara 71 

One long sigh from out a hundred 
Burdened hearts, and, clustering closely 
On the utmost margin, straining 
Eyes look forth and see a tossing 
Speck of white that like a foam fleck 
Speeds, but bears a swaying figure, 
Still erect; and now that swelling 
Crest it nears, and now the mist wreaths 
Rise — ah, no, we '11 look no longer! 
Cover up your eyes and listen 
To the plaintive song the leader 
Of the maiden choir is chanting: 



"Fare thee well, O Lelawala! 

Never will the tribe forget 
Her who faltered not to follow 

Death to pay her people's debt. 
Now will Manitou watch o'er us, 
All our foes shall fall before us, 

But our hearts will sorrow yet 



72 Xegenos of tbe Xano 

Many a moon for Lelawala, 
Lelawala, Lelawala!" 

While, from mouth to mouth repeated, 
Still that name in wailing chorus 
As a solemn death song sounded, 
Eagle Eye stood forth, and beckoned 
That his tribe should hearken to him: 

" It is well with you, my people, 
With my daughter well, and silence 
I have kept, that all the ancient 
Custom of our fathers once more 
Should be done, and none accuse me 
For withholding when the sacred 
Lot was found to rob my wigwam. 
But, and mark ye well my saying, 
Henceforth this shall be abandoned. 
Henceforth shall the ancient tribute 
Cease nor Manitou be reverenced 
Longer, while the wily white man 



H %e$eno of IRfaaara 73 

Ye shall fear and learn his customs. 

I shall not be here to feel it, 

But I see my people subject 

To the stranger; see him drive you 

From your lands that he may seize them; 

See you wandering, homeless, scattered; 

See him merciless, triumphant. 

I shall not be here to feel it, 

For I go, while yet in freedom 

I may go, and freely offer 

For his final tribute double 

Price to Manitou, if haply 

He may yet arise to save you, 

Drive these white men from our borders. 

But, alas, his voice is for them! 

Nightly have I seemed to hear him 

Calling it with all his thunders 

Forth — 'The red man's reign is over!' 

Go, young pale-face, tell your leader 

Eagle Eye to fate has yielded — 

He who never gave submission 



74 Xeaenos of tbe Xanb 

To your people and their teachings — 
And his last words were defiance, 
And his last act was a free one ! 
Lo, he follows Lelawala!" 

Speaking thus, he turned and loosened, 
From the place where it lay hidden 
'Neath the willows of the river's 
Brink, a frail canoe and swiftly 
Springing in and swiftly guiding 
Forth its prow — before his people 
Scarcely had divined his purpose — 
He was out upon the current, 
He was speeding down the rapids, 
He had plunged into the thunderous 
Gulf of mists and spirit voices ! 

Then arose a wail of anguish 
From the stricken tribe, and terror 
Seized upon their souls. The evening 
Shadows came and they unheeding 



B Xeaeno of IFUagara 75 

Stood, lamenting, by the river. 
Night drew on, but what its darkness 
To the gloom upon their spirits? 
And their wailing and lamenting 
Followed one who stole with silent 
Feet and swift along the forest 
Trail, escaping to his comrades 
Who in wonder heard his story. 

Once more the tale is told. Its prophecy 
Has been fulfilled and we have long possessed 
The red man's land of wonders. It were well 
That we should linger on the shore to which 
The legend leads our fancy, and once more 
Discern a Voice in those vast thunder tones, 
And know it voice of God, that calls to us 
His youngest-born of nations thus to-day: 
"I, even I have chosen thee, O child 
Of many peoples and of countless years — 
For whom the world has travailed until now 
In woe and agony, in blood and tears — 



76 %CQmb$ of tfoe 3tan© 

I, even I, have chosen thee to bring 

My Kingdom among men. Be worthy thou 

Of this thine heritage. Make pure thy brow 

For my anointing hand. Let lust of power 

And greed of gain fall from thee — evil dreams. 

From ocean unto ocean, consecrate 

Thy land. Its deserts, valleys, crags, and 

streams 
Make sacred for their service unto me 
And my new Era. Lo, it is the hour! 
I, even I, thy God, have chosen thee." 



Ubc TTafetng of IDincenne 

THE good French folk of Poste Vincenne 
Had thrown off the rule of the Englishmen, 

And following Father Gibault's behest 
For Clarke and the Colonies stood confest. 

They drove out the garrison, sore amazed, 
And tore down the flag that Hamilton raised. 

Their women fashioned a banner new 
Of stripes and of stars on a field of blue, 

And raising it over their fortress stout 

They danced and feasted with song and shout. 

And Clarke, in the fortress to guard the Poste, 
Placed what he could spare of his rugged host. 

The news went forth of this bold exploit 
And Hamilton heard it in far Detroit. 

77 



78 Xeaenos of tbe Xano 

This Hamilton was it, or so men say, 
Who proffered the Indians goodly pay 

For white men's scalps; if it be not so, 

That the Indians served in his troops, we know. 

And now enraged against Poste Vincenne 
He takes to the saddle and gathers him men, 

Twenty score of the Kanuck knaves 
And twice two hundred Indian braves. 

They thread the forest, they cross the plain, 
They wade the streams thro' the swelling rain, 

They have scarcely halted for food or rest, 

Till they halt for the fort where its frowning crest 

Faces the Wabash's silver tide 
Forty feet from the riverside. 

Silent and swift had their coming been 

As the rise of a fog-wreath, white and thin, 



Ube Uafefna of Wncenne 79 

And none of the French at the Poste could know 
That the enemy threatened the fort below. 

Quoth they within: "This is doubtful sport! 
But we '11 save our honor, if not the fort." 

And they without cast a wavering eye 

At the twelve great guns on the bastion high. 

" First, for a parley!" Hamilton cried; 
"They will yield, perchance, if I forward ride, 

Though they skulk by hundreds behind yon 

logs. 
Why waste good blood on the Yankee dogs?" 

As he spurred him forward, a figure tall 
Leaped into sight on the earthen wall; 

Grim and defiant, with torch in hand, 
By a well-aimed cannon it took its stand: 

"Now, Britisher, what are the words ye bring?" 
"That ye yield you, rebels, in name of the King. 



8o %cQcnb5 ot tbe %anb 

This fort is the King's, and his Vincenne" — 
"Ay? Then not his are the fort's brave men. 

"And if I should choose your summons to take, 
Ye 'd best be free in the terms ye make. 

" If to offer the honors of war ye fail, 

I '11 drench your forces with grapeshot hail." 

" Honors, you craven ? Your haste is your 

shame" — 
The torch toward the touch-hole bent its flame, 

"Answer me straitly and then have done!" 
"Have it e'en as you will it," said Hamilton. 

"Then draw up your Kanucks and Indian hounds, 
You buyer of scalps with your British pounds, 

"And let them in order with patience wait, 
Till braver than they come forth from the gate." 

Angry and scornful, yet pleased withal 

That the fort in his hands should so easily fall, 



XTbe Uafttng of Dincenne 8i 

Hamilton sat on his charger fleet 
Waiting the tread of the garrison's feet; 

And, forming a pathway straight and wide, 
Twice two hundred on either side, 

Stood, in orderly files, his men, 

To honor the fall of Poste Vincenne. 

Long did the men and their general wait 
'Neath the frowning cannon, without the gate; 

Till a thought of treachery crossed his mind, 
And the men looked furtively, too, behind, 

Half expecting the sudden cheers 

Of a horde of Yankees about their ears. 

At last, with a crash, the bolts were sprung 
And the doors of the fortress outward flung. 

And there issued forth, with a martial tread, 
Armed to the teeth, his high-held head 



82 Xegenos of tbe Xano 

Turning neither to left nor right, 

Lest his stern old face should betray delight, 

Bluff Captain Helm, he who spoke from the wall, 
And behind him, one private — just two in all ! 

Two against twice four hundred men 
Had honorably guarded Poste Vincenne! 

A smothered laugh through the forces crept, 
As between their files the enemy stept 

To the duped and astounded Hamilton, 
And yielded the keys and the garrison. 

And the laugh swept onward from Poste to Poste; 
'T were hard to tell you which laughed the most, 

The Yankees, the French or the Britishers, when 
They talked of the taking of Poste Vincenne. 



Ube Strange Stcrp of peter 1Ruoo 

\^0U who would leave a fireside snug 

To lightly tempt ill fate, 
Attend the tale of Peter Rugg, 
Which now I will relate. 

PART ONE 

This Peter was a man of trade, 

In Boston he did bide, 
And bargains shrewd and sharp he made, 

Round all the countryside. 

'T was said, by folk of idle speech 

Who love a jibe, that none 
Would ever Peter overreach 

Except the Evil One. 

83 



84 Xegenfcs ot the %anb 

His little daughter rode with him, 

This time of which I tell, 
And, as the day was growing dim, 

They stopped with Good-man Bell. 



With Good-man Bell, of Concord town, 

They took a dish of tea; 
But while they supped the dark came down, 

The wind rose suddenly, 



And, without warning, there befell 

A storm of furious might. 
"Now it were well," said Good-man Bell, 

"To share our roof to-night." 

"Nay," Peter cried, "I may not bide 

Until the night is gone, 
For at my gate I must await 

A stranger comes at dawn. 



Ube Strange 5tor£ of peter IRwqq 85 

"A tryst I gave the foreign knave; 

He promised profits fair. 
So fetch thy cloak, my daughter brave, 

Who minds a gust of air?" 



The lightning flashed, 't was dread to see, 
The child brought cloak and hood, 

The old wife wrapped her tenderly 
And made the fastenings good. 



But when they loosed the bolted door 

And raised the latchet stout, 
There came a blast that shook the floor 

And blew the candles out. 

"Stay," cried the good-wife, "venture not!" 
The good-man urged, "Beware!" 

Then Peter in a temper got 
And a fearful oath he sware : 



86 %eQcnbs of tbe Xano 

"Let winds or devils work their spite, 

Let floods in torrents pour, 
I '11 win my way to my home this night, 

Or I '11 journey f orevermore ! " 



He brought the mare, who plunged and shook 

With fear that did her craze; 
His sobbing child from the dame he took 

And leaped into the chaise. 



A flash, a clap, and off they flew. 

The twain they left straightway 
Crept in and lit the lights anew 

And prayed till dawn of day. 

For all night long the thunder roared; 

The rain unceasing fell; 
And blasts rushed by, a shrieking horde, 

As they were fiends of hell. 



Zbc Strange 5tor£ of peter TRugg 87 

PART SECOND 

The morrow's morn to Boston town 

There came a stranger smug, 
Who paced the streets both up and down 

Asking for Peter Rugg. 

At Peter's door, in watching sore 

Stood wife and little son. 
A cheerful face the heavens wore — 

The storm was past and done. 

The stranger came and bowed: "Good dame," 

(His smile was ill to see) 
"Thy man is stayed by a tedious trade, 

But he yet shall tryst with me!" 

"And must he tarry longer hence?" 

The child made question shrill. 
"Till crack of doom! nor pounds nor pence 

Doth win but his own mad will." 



88 Xeaenos of tbe 3lanb 

A mocking laugh and he was gone; 

None saw him on the way, 
Though search for Peter Rugg went on 

Through all that weary day. 



And suns arose and set apace 

And weeks and months rolled round, 
But nevermore a single trace 

Of Peter Rugg was found; 



Save that whene'er a storm arose, 
Amid the thunder's peals, 

Near Concord — so the story goes- 
Was heard the noise of wheels 



And frightened sobbing of a child, 

With thud of hurrying hoofs. 
But sounds are strange when winds blow wild, 

And hard to take as proofs. 



Ube Strange 5tor£ of peter IRugg 89 

And they, no doubt, were in a maze 
Through lightning's flash and glare 

Who saw a white face in a chaise 
Behind a plunging mare. 



But old wives say until this day, 
When tempests rage at night, 

That Peter Rugg is on his way, 
Driving with main and might. 



£en Sonneta 



91 



H jportraft 

A S one who coming from a tranquil lease 

Of country days, neath overarching skies, 
Looks on the world of men with rested eyes 
And moves and speaks in that remembered peace, 
So looked and moved and spoke he ever. Fleece 
Of floating cloud and flashings of sunrise, 
Calm of the uplands and the sweet surprise 
Of sudden bird-notes, or the brook's caprice 
Of gentle laughter — these were in his face 
And mien and voice. And yet his life's dull 
scene 
Held none of these. But in a secret place 
Still streams he knew, and dwelt in pastures 
green; 
Whence issuing to his tasks, he bore the grace 
Of that fair country where he late had been. 



93 



XTbe ©racle 

\17HEN we are doubting much which way is 
best, 
And cannot from high Heaven answer bring, 
Though we besiege it with our questioning, 

Nor can within our hearts read God's behest, 

Sometimes, as men of old did, we invest 
The Book with mystic charm, and opening 
Its pages all at random, read that thing 

As oracle on which the eyes first rest. 

Once, wild my instant wishes to acquire, 
I tried the test, and read: "Wait patiently 

And He will give to thee thy heart's desire." 
I would not wait, but seized my phantasy. 

Alas, 't was not the good for which I yearned; 

Long after that my heart's desire I learned. 



94 



Zbcn, face to jface 

VX/E may not often meet in time or space, 

But, at a thought, the beck of fancy's 
finger, 
My friend before me takes her instant place, 
And there, so long as I may will, doth linger. 
Radiantly dim appear her form and face 

As though the spirit should before them steal, 

And all our converse has th' untrammelled grace 

That blundering lips and eyes too oft conceal. 

Such wishborn visits, made without restraint 
Of means material — may they not prefigure, 

As in a vision far away and faint, 
That happy time to come, when comrades eager 

Freed from the falsities of flesh, shall reach 

At last to perfect knowledge, each of each? 



95 



"/H>S ffatber's Business " 

Y\ THAT is it forces men to overrun 

Their safe and common paths, to meet the 
frown 
Of those they reverence, jeered by every clown, 
Knowing no rest till some strange task be done, 
Some luring secret from the darkness won? 
What is it makes life, love, and fair renown 
As naught — its far-off prize the martyr's crown? 
'T is God's great business, claiming thus his son. 

So was it with the Boy Divine. Apart 

From those calm travellers on their home- 
ward way, 
He needs must utter from his questioning heart 

The burden that already on it lay; 
And she who gently drew him from the spot 
Trembled, methinks, at that presaging "Wist ye 
not?" 



II 
"mas Subject TDlnto Ubem" 

A ND yet the daily task is sacred too, 

And he who serves the Highest will not 
spurn 
The humbler service, nor unloving turn 
From claims of human kinship. No less true 
A mastery of our wills is that which through 
Apprenticeship to other wills we learn, 
Not servile, yet submissive to discern 
God 's bidding when a lowlier bids to do. 

So through those silent, unrecorded years 
The matchless life grew slowly into power, 

Brooding its mystery of hopes and fears 
And moving ever forward toward the hour 

When he who first had served at Nazareth 

Life's Lord became, obedient unto Death. 

7 97 



©n tbe Statue of %cif Bricson at Boston 

C HADING with upraised hand the keen, bold 
gaze 
That sees — not knowing what it sees — a land 
Before unvisited, behold him stand 
Here on the new world's brink; its morning haze 
He, the o'er-early herald of the dawn, essays 
Vainly to pierce, unmindful of his band 
Of clamoring foll'wers, who have left the 
strand 
Where lies their dragon prow. The level rays 
Define his form heroic. Wonder small 

It was, that they who dwelt there, seeing then, 
Raised on the height, this stranger fair and tall — 
Whence come, or how, they knew not, — bowed 
as men 
Before a god, and covered tremblingly 
Their eyes from light of days that were to be. 



peer Gpnt 

A LAS for him across whose eager way 
That monster lies — infirmity of will, 
Opposing, chilling, thwarting him, until 
He thinks by going "round-about" he may 
Still to himself be true. And so astray 
He wanders; many luring phantoms fill 
His vagrant gaze, but when he grasps them 
still 
Are never what he would. For since the day 
When he beheld a vision all of peace 
And purity and light before him stand, 
And loved it, he has ever inly known 
That this was his to follow without cease; 
That this was what for him the Master 
planned ; 
That our best selves must serve the best 
alone. 

99 



Hn a Cops of tfenelon's Xetters 

TN loneliness unspeakable, we long 

At times for some wise, tender, human 
friend, 
Who to our doubtful footsteps light may lend, 
And with his strength abounding make us strong. 
Then, in this little book, O Fenelon, 

Methinks that thou such light, such strength 

dost send 
Down through the years that sever thy life's 
end 
From ours, beginning. And it were a wrong 
To wish those years away, and thee more near; 
For all may know thee now, and at thy best, 
Where few could then; may get from thee 
brave cheer 
And with thy tender counsels calm the breast. 
Self-will rebuked gives way, ambitions cease 
We find in thy commended silence peace. 



XTwo Sonnets on Hge 



" LJ E 'S growing old " we say of one, because 
His garment of the body through the 
wear 

Of many seasons now no longer fair 
Appears, but faded; here and there some flaws 
Discernible. "He's growing old" — we pause 

With pity on the words, nor note how bare 

They are of meaning. Learn to know him 
there, 
The Self within that fraying garb ! No laws 
Of waste through too much usage threaten him ; 

More use, more power, this is the soul's decree; 
Toil cannot break it, time its freshness dim; 

They do but bring it height, breadth, potency. 
And Death who plucks the outworn cloak away 
Unmasks a Youth too strong for him to slay. 



II 

"Too old to change" — another phrase we hold 
In thoughtless usage and as though we spoke 
Of wax or clay, not man (whose outer cloak, 

The body, we mean not in this, since bold 

Even now to say its changing proves him old). 
Habit may seem to fetter, years to choke 
The mind's swift channels; nothing can revoke 

That law whereby through endless change, unfold 

The powers of endless life. Thus, born at first 
All humanwise, through many a strange rebirth 

Man passes, still the eager child, emburst 
With ever nobler aims, till born from earth, 

He finds eternity but offers range 

For growth unceasing, glorious change on change. 



flDars 

TVTEAREST of neighboring worlds, who art so 

far 

That could we seek thee, speed from youth to 

death, 

Swifter than arrow outward, our last breath 

Still would not hail thee nearing — if this bar 

Of space and time were overleaped, what are 

Thy beings who would greet us? angels, men 

Or other than we know to name? Yet then 

Still sons of God! For though 'twixt star and star 

Man's reason stagger, and with dizzy eyes 

He sighs in weariness, " Here 's too much space 

For Love to dwell in, One Mind to illume," 

Turning, as climbers turn, to that which lies 

Beneath for steadiness, earth's yearning face 

Rebukes, her restless voice cries "Room, 

more room!" 

103 



Gbree CMstmas poems 



105 



u- 



Ubc 1Rati\>it£ 

(After Ghirlandajo) 
THE BEASTS 

PON this ancient, hollowed stone, 
A manger now, the star has shone 
All night, and here, when midnight stirred, 
They laid the Babe, whose radiancy 
Outshone the star. Astonished we 
Brute creatures gaze, as witnessing, 
For Jew and Gentile this high thing. 

THE SHEPHERDS 

Lo here the Child, whereof they sang. 

"Great joy and peace — a Saviour" — rang 

The song not so? — but look! the bird 

So close beside the babe, with red, 

Red spots upon its breast and head, 

Like wounds. "Peace, joy," and won that 

way? 

My wits are dazed and seem to stray. 
107 



108 Uforee Cbtlstmas poems 

JOSEPH 

Not at the train that through the dawn 
In royal pomp comes hastening on, 
As though their eagerness were spurred 
On some high errand — not at these 
I gaze, but where, above the trees 
And herds, an angel wings his flight 
Out of this night, this wondrous night. 

THE BABE 

Silence I keep, my finger-tip 
Upon my tender, suckling lip, 
I who am God his Word — his Word 

Made flesh. A wisp of wheat my bed, 
As sign that men shall find the Bread 
Of Life in me. Helpless I lie 
With my sweet mother brooding nigh. 

THE MOTHER 

My babe, my babe, I kneel to thee, 
And in my bosom, wonderingly, 



Ube Batftits 109 

Ponder the things that I have heard 
And these I see, these visitings 
Of shepherds rude and lofty kings. 
Each mother knows her babe divine, 
But all the world doth worship mine! 



XTbe Sons of tbe Stars 

A CHRISTMAS ODE 

\17HEN the morning stars sang together 

And the world in its grooves first ran, — 
" I am leading it forth at the tether 
Of Taurus" 1 — 
Shouted for joy 
Aldebaran : 
"Behold I am Strength! 

At the tread of my coming came Man. 
Together we '11 plough through the length 
Of an aeon and who shall withstand 
The iron of my hoof and his hand?" 

Polaris replied: 
"Brute force with the brutes is allied; 

1 The human race was supposed to have come into 
existence when Taurus led the zodiacal signs. 
no 



XTbe Song of tbe Stars m 

Each world will its iron age outrun; 

Behold I am Truth! 
All the hosts of the heavens 

Around me revolve 
As their centre and guide. 

The sons of the earth 
Shall know me and strongly resolve 
To be faithful, yet still swerve aside 

To their sorrow and ruth. 

Arcturus 1 gave song: 
" I am swift as thou strong, 

Or thou stable, 
Polaris and Aldebaran. 
Behold I am Skill! 
The hunter of marvellous pace, 
Who distances all in the chase! 

Yet the mind of the new-create man 
Shall follow; the vast fields of space 

1 Arcturus, in Bootes the Hunter, is one of the most 
swiftly moving stars, threescore miles a second. 



H2 Ubree Cbristmas poems 

He shall measure at will, 
And your courses, ye stars, shall he span." 

"Now sing ye no longer," 
Cried Rigel, 

"Of man and his world! 
Ye orbs all resplendent, 
With planets attendant, 

Forever revolving, 
What reck ye of time and its years? 

Arrayed into vast constellations, 

What reck ye of peoples and nations 
On one little globe? O my peers, 
Take ye up the great song of the spheres." 

Then the chorus grew stronger, 
Majestic, of glory and grace 
Ineffable, filling the circles of space 
And flooding the foot of the Throne. 
The suns and their systems swept by, 

And the new little world, 
Giving now a glad cry, 



XTbe Song of tbe Stars 113 

But more often a moan, 

Seemed to drift on, forgotten, alone. 

But a star set afar, in the East, 
As it followed its fellows 
Sang softly: 
"When ages increast 

Shall have taken their flight, 
Man shall see by my tremulous light, 
As it hovers above 
The lowliest spot 

Of this same lowly world, 
That of God he was never forgot. 
Behold I am Love!" 

" I am Love, 
And the kings of the earth 
Shall bow where I tarry, 
With myrrh and frankincense and gold, 

As though they would carry 
The symbols of Strength, Skill and Truth — 
Those great Sons of God— 



H4 TTbree Cbristmas poems 

To lay them, in worshipful sooth 
In a little Child's hold. 

"I am Love! 
O thou song of the Spheres, 
Of the strong and the swift and the stable, 

In far years, my years, 
Thou shalt pass to the paean of peace, 
Of peace and good- will. 
And you, O ye Suns, shall be kindled anew 
At my halo's increase, 
Spreading radiantly forth from the low manger 

cradle 
Through uttermost space, till the universe move 
In the light, to the marvellous music of Love." 



H %on$ for Gbristmas 3£\>e 

'T'HE kings of old did bring their gold, 

The shepherds homage lowly; 
To-night what thing shall my hands bring, 
Or in my heart what offering, 

Child Christ, to please thee wholly? 

For though thou rest upon the breast 

Of tender Mary Mother, 
This world is but a dreary place 
For thee fresh come from angels' grace 

And God's face, little Brother! 

" From love I came, and love I claim 

Alone of all man's treasure, 

His heart to be my hostelrie 

And there this night to shelter Me, 

Shall solely be my pleasure." 
115 



n6 Ubree Gbristmas poems 

Then, Heart, prepare thy chamber bare 

With holy thoughts and tender; 
Though small thy store, delay no more, 
Let Love run forth from out thy door 
And bid its Prince to enter! 



IDoices of fIDen 



"7 



Bt tbe Sfmplon Uunnel 

A STIR at the hole's black entrance, 

And forth from the mountain's heart, 
Clumsily, tenderly veiling 

The broken thing that they carry, 
Strong men bear him apart; 
And a woman is wailing. 

"One of the workmen — Italian?" 

"Senor, Swiss. 'Twas in blasting. The 
rock 
Fell in from above." "Is that common?" 

"None knows what may follow the shock. 
See, the hospice, the morgue, ever ready. " 
"Ho, Giorgio, the car!" "Now, lads, steady." 

And so to their work again — grimy, 

Swart men, who, pent in the heat 

Of the drill-riven granite, its shiny 
119 



120 Doices of /Sften 

Water-drenched walls, piece by piece, 
Hour by hour, shatter, advancing 
Toward Italy, light, and release. 

And from Italy moves yet another 
Band of besiegers, assaulting 

The rugged rock-fortress, upreared 
In the far-away dawn of creation 
Dividing grim nation from nation 

While either the other still feared. 

Long ages, for conquest and plunder, 

They struggled and fought past the barrier 

That held them, in mercy, asunder; 
Struggled and fell in the snow 

Of fierce tempests, 'neath swift avalanches, 
Conquered ere meeting the foe. 

Changed is the meed of the battle; 

Twin armies of peace they contend — 
And the conflict is stern as the olden — 



Bt tbe Simplon funnel 121 

That men shall no longer be holden 

Apart, but cross swiftly and smoothly 
To clasp eager hands, friend with friend. 

No heroes, you tell me, these peasants 
Who toil for their few sous a day, 

In dirt and discomfort and danger? 

Scarce subjects for song? And I say 

You are wrong. Step this way. You uncover? 

He 's dead, then. And she — 't was her lover. 

Died as he reached her; died nobly 
As knight on the field, or the saint 

At the stake. In foul air, in terror 
Of darkness, explosions, constraint 

Of body and soul, thus he labored 

Day after day. If in error 

Choosing such work, you and I, friend, 

The whole world, who profit thereby, 
Can illy upbraid him. His stipend 



122 Voices of ZlDen 

Contemptible? Then you and I 
So much more are his debtor. 
Let 's own, standing here, it is better 

In God's awful sight, to have struggled 
And died as this man, than for lustre 
Of conquest in battle. The muster 

Of fame this our age shall increase: 

Shall write there the martyrs of progress, 

Shall write there the builders of peace! 



W 1 



Ho IDictor 

'HITHER our leader went, 
Suddenly, ruthlessly sent 
Into a hand-to-hand grappling with death, 
No one could follow. 

We could but stand, intent, 
Gazing with sobbing breath 

Where, in that shadow-dark hollow 
Wrestled, calm-eyed, alone, 
He to whose side once a million of men 
Sprang, when the call was, and would yet again. 
Ah, God! must he be overthrown? 

Nay, that is not to be! 
Look, where victoriously 

123 



i2 4 IDoices of flBen 

Forth from the close, weary conflict he 
comes. 
Rejoice, O his people! 
Sound your glad jubilee — 
Not with the blare of drums — 

Chime paeans from belfry and steeple! 
For now doth our leader appear 
As one new-commissioned of God, from this 

strife; 
He who has looked upon death, upon life 

Looks, henceforth, with vision made clear. 

SEPTEMBER, igOl 



Hn tbe Silent Zimc 

DEHOLD, O God, a nation purified 

Through vigils and through weeping! See 

us stand 
Here in this space of silence through the land, 
Millions with foreheads bared, as if beside 
The bier that, borne along a city far, 
Seems passing in the stilled streets where 
we are! 

We thought the answer to our prayer had come 
According to our will, in those first days 
Of breathless watching, and the song of 
praise 

Was at our lips, when they were stricken dumb. 
And yet our prayer is answered in this still 
Rapt moment, but according to Thy will. 



126 IDoices of tfDen 

We prayed our leader might be spared and now, 
We feel his leadership as never yet 
In council, or in warfare, or in fret 

And strain of large affairs that his calm brow 
Surveyed to just solution — for 't is he 
To-day who leads his people nearer Thee. 

Nearer to Thee in reverencing the worth 

Of his pure manhood — in the consciousness 
Of whence it drew its strength, and whence 
no less, 
Its gift to love and be beloved. On earth 

The things unseen are real, O God, this day, 
Because, in death, his clear eyes saw Thy 
way 

And knew Thy will as law. And, as we go 
Forth to the future and this sacred hour 
Fades to a memory, while lust of power 

And greed of gain assail us, may we know 

Henceforth, forevermore, that only when 
Thy will is law to nations or to men 



In tbe Silent TTime 127 

Can they through any gifts or powers attain 
To greatness; that Thy law is liberty, 
All else that license whose last martyr we 

Are mourning — martyred not, O God, in vain; 
For, as the silence breaks, each leaves his 

place, 
Vowed to a better manhood, bettered race. 

SEPTEMBER 1 4, I9OI 



Ubc Cits of %tght 

'T'HE night approaches and the people throng 
Expectantly upon the stately square. 

Its domes and pinnacles grow dim along 

The deepening sky; terrace and fountain fair 
Fade slowly out — lo, darkness everywhere! 

Pregnant, preluding darkness; then a flower 
Of roseate flame blooms softly at the stalk 
Of each fair column bordering the walk; 

And at the edges of the distant tower 

Trembles a glow so nebulous 't would balk 

The vision's credence, till there creeps a fine 

Bright tracing all along the sky, of fire, 
And pulsing into being, line by line 
Out of the shrouding dark, arise and shine 

Turret and pediment and dome and spire. 

128 



Ube City ot 3Ligbt 129 

East, west and south, swift as the eye can turn 
Entranced, the marvel still is brightening 
And multiplying; even the fountains ring 

Their spray with fire, and fairy circles burn 
In color on the grass; and then to bring 

The gaze to northward, where transfigured stands, 

Blazing and glowing up its golden height 
Of pearly arabesques and jewelled bands, 
The tower, and all that city fair commands, 
The very fount and source and throne of 
light! 

Marvellous vision! Not again to us 

Shall such be granted, save when we behold, 

Against the last deep shadows, even thus 
A city opening out its streets of gold 
And shining jasper, and its manifold 

Fair gates, each several gate of one 

Pure shimmering pearl, and ever crystal 
clear 



13° Voices ot flDen 

The radiant fount proceeding from the throne. 
Until in glory all these things appear, 
Thou art, O City of Light, their faint, fair 



image here. 



OCTOBER, 1 9OI 



San ffrancisco 

'T'HE shock of an immense catastrophe, 

Earth rent, a city into fragments hurled, 
Fire urging, famine torturing the spent, 
Unsheltered fugitives; such things might be 

A fiend's work! Then, across the continent, 
A mightier shock and thrill of sympathy; 

Flames of desire to help that higher curled 
Than those destroying ones; strong hands 

stretched out; 
Wealth poured like wine; these showed our 
coward doubt 
That Love — and, therefore, God — still rules 
the world. 

APRIL, I906 



131 



Et tbe Sea^sbore 

pvROWNED this morning? A boy? And 

these waves at my feet, 

Falling forward so softly they may not quite 

catch 

That stray pebble up with them in gentle 

retreat, 

No longer ago than this morning could 

snatch 

The strength from a boy's sturdy limbs, choke 

his cry 

Of sudden dismay into silence, and beat 

The clutching young hands down that pray'd 

not to die? 

132 



Bt tbe Sea^sbore 133 

Such a horror! Such loss! And they smile in 
the sun 
These waves that have wrought it, and mur- 
mur content; 
Not a sigh for the sad morning's work they have 
done, 
Not a sob for the young life so ruthlessly 
spent; 
Just the low, placid murmur, the plash and 
reply: 
"Pass on, passing on" — is there something 
else meant 
By that soft "Passing on, wave and man, you 
and I"? 



When I listen again at the turn of the tide 
That haunting half-meaning falls full on my 

ear; 
As they beat on the beach the great billows can 

hide 



i34 IDoices of /IDen 

No more from me, wistful, their secret of 
cheer: 
"We return" — nobler, stronger than when ye 
late toyed 
With the shells! — "We return. There can 
naught disappear; 
Not a force, whether wave, whether soul, be 
destroyed." 



Ube TldaE ot tbe Bast 

7fo &wtfjf> shined. I fell on my face. 
Into the house by the way of the gate 
Toward the east came the glory 
Of God, and it filled the -place. 
And I heard him speaking," 
So runneth Ezekiel's story. 

Open thy eastward window, 

O child of a later day ! 
The shinings of power and of promise 
Shall enter thy house that way. 
Let not the shadow of yesterday's loss 
Or pain, or failure, darken across 
135 



136 Voices of flDen 

From the portal behind thee ! 
Close the door of the past with the strength the 
past has increast ! 
God's glory will find thee 

By the way of the new day's dawn 
The way of the East. 

Open your gates to the eastward, 
O nations and peoples, for still, 
As Israel once, are ye chosen 
Of God to perform his will. 
Wonderful biddings the dawn will disclose, 
Turn not your eyes from its purple and rose, 

Truth cannot blind ye! 
Fear of the light is the great unfaith, 
Since God is its source; 
The errors that bind ye, 

He scatters by way of his dawns 
Each in its course. 

Out of the joy and the splendor 
Of that great glory, " I heard 



ITbe mny of tbe Bast 137 

Him speaking," the prophet tells us, 
And thus for us too is his word. 
Time and its echoes at dawn of the day 
Are still, for eternity cometh that way 
Of the east, and its shining 
Shows us as children, with all things before 
us, 
Who hearing the voice, 
And its message divining, 

At the gate of a new day's endeavor, 
Stand and rejoice. 



As children — for though to the body 

This short path of earth brings decay, 
The spirit, attentive, untiring 
Has scarcely set forth on its way, 
Scarce learned to walk or to read in the clod, 
In the sky, in its own self, the writing of 
God, 
When the prelude has ending 



138 IDoices of Alien 

(Fools say the prelude is all); and to life in its 
fulness released, 
We face a transcending 

Dawn as we pass through the portal 
The way of the East ! 



Creation 

TJAST thou in marble wrought 

Thy living thought ? 
Or on the wings of song 
Sent it forth, angel-strong ? 
Hast thou reality 
Made of thy fairest dream, 
Of thy soul's prophecy? 
Then art thou truly blest; 
Then hast thou thrilled, 
Thou, too, with that supreme 
Joy of the self-expressed, 
Of the fulfilled 
Life that, in giving life, 
Standeth revealed. 

Know thou, there 's one sole plan, 
One law for God and Man : 

139 



140 Voices of flDen 

Only in act of giving 
Life is true living. 
Runneth the ancient scroll: 
Godhead, bestowing 
Life of his plenitude, 
"Saw it was good." 
Each several act — the whole 
Round of creative days 
Crowned with that glowing 
Word of supreme content 
From the Omnipotent. 



One law — the pallid brow 
Bending above the babe 
Laid in her arms but now, 
Radiates ecstasy, 
Halo of motherhood; 
All of love's potency 
Blissfully satisfied 
In the new life supplied. 



Creation 141 

One law for God and Man. 
Grudge not the travail throe, 
Poet or artisan, 
Mother or monarch ! Know, 
Only as thou dost give 
Life, canst thou live. 



Gbe /IDotber to ber 3Babe*lDtsitant 

T^HOU didst not wander far, my little one, 

From out the garden fair, where souls like 

thine 

Bloom into being in the light of God, their Sun. 

Was it that thou wert weary, having played 

Too long, — so tender thou, for e'en divine 

Glad sports of angel babes, — and, weary, strayed 

Into my waiting arms, and on my breast 

Lay for a little — oh, so little — while to rest? 

Yet it was long enough to make thee mine 

Henceforth, as well as God's; and tho' the great 

Fair face of some kind foster-angel 's bent 

Above thee now, I cannot be afraid 

That when I come thou wilt not know me 

straight, 

142 



XLbe tfDotber to ber JBabe^Wtettant 143 

And turn to me, to me, in glad content 
That thou once more, and evermore, hast won 

Such resting place as God has only made 
Within a mother's arms, my little one. 



Go tbe IDictotia IRegia 

IN PROSPECT PARK, BROOKLYN 

A QUEEN has come in all her royal state 
To visit these far waters, and her fleet 
At anchor lies about her — ample prows 
With cables reaching to the queen's own seat 
Where it floats i' the sheltered midst, and bears 
the sweet 
Pale stranger, who through being gazed upon 
Flushes at last, like mountain snow at dawn. 
Thou from the tropics — thou ? Alone the freight 
Of rich red-blooded life thy convoys bear 
The truth of such nativity avows. 
For pure and calm, like her who namesakes 
thee, 
Thy gentle mien befits this temperate air. 
And yet, one fancies 'neath thy courtesy 
144 



Tto tbe Victoria TRegta 145 

Of grace to those who here have used thee 
well, 
Thou hast wild longings for the forests deep, 
The blazing zenith sunshine, and the sweep 

Of wide warm waters where thy kindred dwell. 



3Bu£ing pansies 

CHE comes to her door at the peddler's call, 

A creature of many cares, 
Stooping her figure, worn and tall, 
Muffled about in a hasty shawl, 

To choose of his springtide wares; 
And the fresh little faces smiling all 
Seem smiling again by the low garden-wall 

Of a far-away farm, 
And the face that she lays against theirs is the 
warm 

Laughing face of a girl, unawares. 



146 



Ht tbe Gross*roafcs 

'"THEY met at the cross-roads at noon, 

Who parted in morn's glow of wonder: 
" Now what is your message, my comrade ? for 
soon 
Our paths will again lie asunder. 

"The wealth that you wished — is it earned? 

Has happiness come in full measure?" 
"Nay, friend, but another accounting I 've learned 

For riches, new meanings for pleasure." 

"And your fame! have you written the book — 
Done the deeds through your young visions 

flitting?" 
"Nothing great! but more courage and virtue it 

took 

For the small — and the meed will be fitting." 
147 



u8 Doices of ZlDen 

"Not conquered the world ? Ah, 't is you 

Then who've conquered yourself?" "Nay, 
my brother; 

What to-day I repent, still to-morrow I do, 
But I judge no more harshly another." 

"Surely faith then, high hope of your youth — 
Are its certainties won ?" "No abiding 

Place here have I found for the soul seeking truth, 
But a Hand clasps my own and is guiding." 

" So we part thus ? again shall we meet, 

Each alone toward the sunset now wending ?" 

" Dear comrade, no tears — 't is the dawn we shall 
greet, 
'T is thither all pathways are tending." 



Xegenbs 1Rew 



149 



Ube Brotbers 

HTWO brothers, dwelling in a distant land, 
Were housed apart, for one was of the court, 
Rich, powerful, the other mean and poor. 
And so, one day, the elder came to stand 

Before his father and to make report 
Of what had chanced to him in all that land, 
And gifts to offer from his growing store. 

"Where is my other son ?" a question born 
From out the silence, met his eager heart. 

"Am I my brother's keeper ?" he in scorn 

Made answer. And there came a stern 
"Thou art!" 

Years passed. The elder brother slowly learned 
To help the younger in a hundred ways; 
Gave food for asking, warmed his dwelling 

place, 

151 



152 Xegenbs Hew 

And never from his own rich dwelling spurned 
The other's rags. Then in the latter days, 
With secret hope of praises dearly earned, 

Once more he stood before his father's face. 

"Where is my other son ?" he heard again. 

"My father, all thy bidding I have done, 
Fed, clothed, and taught him. What doth fail 
me then ?" 
"Thou comest alone. Where is my other 
son?" 



Long ages full of failure passed away; 
And as the bettered days went softly by, 

They shone, at last, upon a place where stood 
Two brothers, strong of heart and clear of 
eye. 
And one said to the other, " 'T is the day 
When we must go together, thou and I, 
And tell our father of our mutual good." 



Ube 3Brotbers 153 

But even then a voice between them fell: 

"No need to seek me far as once thou didst, 

For since my two dear sons together dwell, 
Lo, I have come to tarry in their midst. " 



Xusus mature 

OAFIZ, the upright, once was prone 

To see no virtues but his own; 
This man was false; that, bent on gain; 
In these the moral twist was plain, 

Till, having shown the crookedness 
Of all, he paused aghast, "Unless" — 
So came the sudden thought — "there be 
Some one, somewhere, resembling me 
In perfect truth and probity, 

I 've proved myself in piteous case, 
A thing apart from all its race! 
Go to! for traits like mine I '11 seek: 
For who would choose to be a Freak! 



154 



Ube Xabor problem 

A FABLE 

A conservative Bear and a radical Bee 
If talking together would scarcely agree. 

CAID Ursa to Apis, "You bugs are too small 






To try to do anything useful at all. " 



Said Apis to Ursa, "Though small, bees would 

thrive 
If we had n't such numbers of drones in the hive." 
"Drive them out," Ursa growled, "you can sting, 

I am sure." 
"But only such folk," answered Apis, demure, 
" As are bigger and stronger and crosser than we ! 
Besides we 've concluded to let the drones be 
155 



156 %eQcnbs flew 

Till our queen and our workers, our bigwigs and 

seers, 
Have solved a great problem they 've studied 

for years." 
"What is that?" Ursa asked, more respect in her 

tones. 
"To find out the purpose and place of all drones. 
There are bee-drones and bear-drones (your 

pardon, my friend) 
And drones amongst mortals without any end, 
And a reason for all things — the doctrine of bees ; 
There remains but to find, then, the reason for 

these. 
Men gave up the problem long since and, I hear, 
Pet their drones and make much of them — mor- 
tals are queer! 
But we in the hive still regard them with scorn 
And cannot help wondering why they were born. 
What a blessing for all then to answer this why, 
And the place they were meant for, to find or 

supply. " 



Ube Xabor problem 157 

"Do you mean an asylum ?" said Ursa the slow, 
"Or a hospital? Drones are quite weakly, I 

know. " 
Laughed Apis : " Your idea is certainly droll. 
And would n't a workhouse be best on the whole? 
But I think that our wiseacre's plan will be 

this: 
Believing that naught is created amiss, 
That everything made has the power to perform 
One task or another, they purpose a swarm 
Of task-hunting bees, an Intelligence Hive, 
To seek the task fated for each drone alive, 
That he 's failed to find or that 's failed to find 

him, 
The task that 's been waiting for centuries dim ; 
To find it, and bind it upon him so fast 
He needs must perform it, nay, love it, at last. 
Then hives would drip honey, bear dens would 

be clean, 
And the world sweeter, better than yet it has 

been." 



158 Xegenfcs IRew 

" Leave your neighbors alone, " growled the bear 

in a huff, 
"To reform your own hive will be labor enough." 
And she curled herself up for a nap in her den 
While the bee buzzed away to her wax-works 

again. 

You whose eyes scan this fable, just ponder upon it ; 
Perhaps you '11 go off with a bee in your bonnet. 



Ube Gttafcel 

T PON this rocky crag I build my nest, 

Where, after wars and trouble, I may rest; 
No foe shall bid me hence from this defence, 
And none shall seek me out to be my guest." 



He raised his towers against a barren sky, 
Made wide and deep his moat, his bastions high. 
"Now let the world be sad, or mad, or glad, 
Alone within my castle, what care I?" 

And lo, the warder's child, a maiden fair, 
With tender eyes and strands of sunny hair, 

Flitted across his way, day after day, 
And Love, fond guest, slipped after unaware. 
159 



160 %cQenb& IFlew 

The year sped onward from their bridal spring, 
And Life, mysterious guest, on cherub wing 

Came nestling 'gainst his heart, nor to depart 
Had he a bidding for the helpless thing. 

"Now wife and child are mine, and all the 

more 
Would I make high my walls and stout my 
door. 
I want no added cheer; if foes appear, 
They still shall find me stubborn as before." 

Scarce passed a twelvemonth, when that silent 

foe 
Whose stealthy steps no moats nor ramparts 

know 
Came beckoning at the gate, nor would he 

wait, 
But forth with Death the master straight must 

go. 



Ube Gita&el 161 

The ancient warder moves with sighing breath 
About the castle, and "Alack," he saith, 

" Is man a stock or stone, to live alone ? 
And can he build a wall to shut out Death ?" 

And oft the babe upon his trembling knee 
He takes. "When thou art grown a man," saith 
he, 
" Let all men be thy guests; go oft on quests; 
And Death shall be less sure of finding thee!" 



Uhc Wime Butterflies 

T"WO white butterflies hovered anear, 
As I went over the meadow to-day 
Seeking the neighbor whose heart was as drear 

As mine, for they buried her babe away 
The week my little one died ; they were born, 
Her baby and mine, on the same May morn. 



As I went sadly the meadow over, 

Two white butterflies, out of the sky, 

(Or was it only up from the clover?) 

Circled and fluttered and flitted nigh; 

And once, when I sat me adown to rest, 

They softly alighted on arms and breast. 
162 



Ubc Wbite butterflies 163 

Oh, the empty arms, and the breast no more 
A small head's pillow ! The little white wings 

Filled them a moment, and then, before 

I could follow their flight, they were gone ! 
Strange things 

Came to my mind I had heard folk say 

As I rose half dreaming, and went my way. 

For if it were true that the butterflies white 

Are the souls of the little ones newly ta'en, 

Why then — and my heart grew suddenly light — 
They were happy, were playmates, our babies 
twain ; 

And the mother longing, the mother love 

Had brought them to me from the skies above! 



peniel 

""THERE came a halting place. Time brings 
us these 
At crossings of its river's winding flow. 
Vigil I kept. And, lo, the night was stored, 
This side and that the stream, with phantasies; 
To rearward, flitting shapes my steps pursuing; 
Before, awaiting me in companies — 

Friends, who should bless ? or foes, for my un- 
doing? 

How could I know, 
I, at the Ford? 

Strayed but a glance behind me, all along 

The traversed pathway did the phantoms 

press ; 
The things undone or misdone, wilfulness 

And weakness, grief and pain, a shadowy throng 



IPeniel 165 

Crowding upon me, till, at last, assuming 
One sole and awful shape, The Past, a strong 
And mighty angel through the darkness 
looming, 

Wrestled with me, in stress 
There at the Ford. 



Bitter the struggle, for his grasp was stern, 
His pinions baffled me; the strength I 

had 
Seemed very weakness; yet, although he 
bade 
As dawn drew near, that I from him should 
turn 
And go my way, farspent I gasped: "Thy 
blessing ! 
I will not let thee go, till I discern 
And win from thee the good in thy possessing. 
Give me the word 

I yearn for, at the Ford!" 



166 %CQcntf3 IRew 

And so we grappled. When the morning broke 
He who had maimed me — for henceforth I go 
Halting — his blessing freely did bestow. 
And I, the chrism of his fingers' stroke 

Upon my sunlit brow, went forth, unfearing, 
Toward the far border dim with thronging folk. 
I knew that I should find them friends, all 
friends on nearing: 

All angels of the Lord 

This side and that the Ford. 



ZEbe Sufcament 



" T SANG a song, " said the poet, 

"And still are its echoes heard; 
It strengthened the soul of the noble, 

The guilty conscience it stirred. 
Enough was my quiet glory 

If, here and there in the throng, 
One whispered, with joy in the story, 

"Lo, the poet who sang the song!" 

ii 

"I lived a life," said the maiden, 

"Silent its years and few, 
And the days with their humble duties 

No thrill of achievement knew. 

167 



1 68 Xegen&s Bew 

No children my love shall treasure, 
I comforted none as a wife, 

Only in soft, low measure — 
As set me — I lived my life." 



in 



"I fought a fight," said the toiler, 

"A fight for my bread and breath, 
For a place to shelter my nearest 

From cold and hunger and death. 
Bent at my daily labor 

How could I keep heaven in sight? 
I nodded just to my neighbor 

And turned me again to the fight." 



IV 



The voice of the Perfect Justice 

Came to the waiting three: 
"Like the song were the life and the struggle 

And each has satisfied Me. 



Ube Judgment 169 

The chords betwixt earth and heaven 

Are sounded in many ways ; 
To sing or to live my music 

Deserveth an equal praise." 



TLhc UravaU of Ibis Soul 

O E wrought with passion at a task that meant, 

Could he but bring it to its full success, 
Glad succor for mankind; through years of stress 
Unceasingly he labored; and it failed. 
So, passing thence from out this life, forspent, 
But not one whit disheartened, he was sent 
To other fair, new tasks. 

Long afterwards 
The Angel of the Ages, passing, hailed 
Him smilingly, to come with him upon 
The higher outlooks near the Throne of Bliss. 
And there the Angel swept apart the mist 
That, from all time, that world from this has 

veiled, 
And bade him look. And lo, the old-time task 
He saw perfected, saw in glorified 
170 



Ufoe Ura\?afl of bte Soul 171 

Beneficence, assuaging human need. 
He gazed entranced : "Great Angel, I would ask 
What soul has had the joy to thus succeed 
Where I but dreamed and failed?" The Angel 

smiled 
Again and drew the mists yet more aside — 
"Behold thy dream behind it all! Behold 
The footprints of thy patient toil, a guide 
For these thy heritors! To-day, they hold 
Thee on their lips and in their hearts. O tried 
And faithful Soul, see and be satisfied!" 



T£be IRepls 

"PO him who says, "There is no God; 

I love and worship none," 
Yet has a passion for the truth, 

And loves the flowers, the sun, 
Delights in justice, honor, ruth, 

And worships righteousness — 

To him I answer, "Nay, confess 
That this is very odd, 

For justice, mercy, nature, truth 
And righteousness are God!" 



172 



XLoo Xate 

"AT every door of life, 

Too tardily he knocked; 
He found the windows darkened, 
The treasure-chamber locked." 

I read, and paused to reason, 
Some light there to descry 

The prize — at any season 
Would such unguarded lie? 

And where there still is treasure, 
One still may find the key: — 

No knocking — storm the portal! 
"Too late" is coward's plea! 



173 



Slumber Song 

INTO the mystical Bay of Dreams, 
That little winged bark, the soul, 
Goes drowsily drifting 
Through cloudily shifting 
Fogs and phantoms; it crosses the shoal 
Where the shallows grate and flickering gleams 
Shine out from the shore; 
Then, land no more! 
But out and away, 
Drowsily outward, dropping away 
Through the voices and wraiths of the mys- 
tical Bay, 
To the deep, deep places of fathomless sleep. 
And there, with its pinions furled, 

The little winged bark lies at anchor asway, 
Pillowed and lulled on the billows of rest 
Far away from the quests of the world. 



174 



An a Guest Booft 

MOW heed my hest, 
O Gentle Guest, 

Whose glance upon these pages falls, 
And add a name, a date, a rhyme, 
Some gracious record of the time 

You spend within these sheltering walls! 



From East or West, 
Ye Welcome Guest, 

So long awaited, now is here. 

Glad voices sound along the hall, 
Gay bursts of laughter rise and fall, 

And all is friendliness and cheer. 

175 



176 Xegenfcs IRew 



In mirth and jest 

Ye Merry Guest 
Perchance has passed the happy day; 

Perchance exchanged, in converse deep, 

Such thoughts as friends forever keep 
In warmest memory shrined away. 

in 

Or else, with zest, 

Some woodland quest 
Is planned to fill the summer hours; 

Upon ye river's noble ledge, 

Along ye wood road's tangled hedge, 
Whence booty rich in ferns and flowers. 

IV 

At last, to rest 
Ye Weary Guest 
Comes blithely when the hour is still; 



An a (Buest JBoofc 177 

Mounts gaily to ye Upper Room, 
Draws curtain on the moonlit gloom 
With one last look o'er vale and hill. 



Such hour is best, 

O Kindly Guest, 
To turn my waiting pages through, 

And add, in musing moment sweet, 

Some gentle word, some fair conceit 
To testify, through me, of you. 



jfor a Calendar Wivit bs ffrienfcs 

\^7HAT ill can reach the soul that stands 
So girt about by friends, their hands 
Joined each to each for daily cheer 
Reach round the circle of the year! 



HTAKE but one leaf, dear friend, each day, no 

more; 
For here, as elsewhere, every day that dawns 
Holds its own message, which none other bears, 
Of sunshine, retrospect, new truth, and love, 
And every day its joyance of surprise. 
So do not thou, with an o'er-eager hand, 
Despoil it, ere it dawneth, of its charm. 



178 



MY 3 lama 



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